


A Southside Midsummer Night's Dream

by CallieB



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 17:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2158347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallieB/pseuds/CallieB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Midsummer Night's Dream AU, wherein young love and magic (under the guise of drugs) makes for one very unusual night in Chicago's Southside. </p><p>Kev may be king of all the fairies - if by fairies you mean 'drunk idiots passed out in The Alibi Room' - but when his queen Veronica defies him, he chooses a very unusual revenge - with the assistance of impish Carl - that affects more lives than just his own.</p><p>Meanwhile, Mickey plans to run away with Ian after being caught by his father and nearly forced into sex with a Russian prostitute, but Lip is determined not to lose Ian to a Milkovich, and so plots to stop them. Mandy, hopelessly in love with Lip, is caught in the middle, and when Kev sees their tangled love story, he tries to help in ways that will cast a spell over the four teenagers for the night with unexpected consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Course Of True Love Never Did Run Smooth

**Author's Note:**

> A letter, from CallieB, to herself, in the interests of bringing her to her senses:
> 
> Dear CallieB
> 
> Yeah, we're awesome, aren't we? Anyway, enough of that. Let me remind you of a few things you appear to have forgotten.
> 
> Remember your very busy life? Remember the three holidays you're supposed to be going on, and all the packing and beach-body-training and planning you need to do for them? Remember the work you need to do in order to afford said holidays? Remember the building site you currently live in, and all the work that needs doing to put it in order?
> 
> Remember how you're an aspiring author, among other things, with a full-length novel you're supposed to be working on? Remember how you've barely written five heavily-edited chapters of said novel?
> 
> Remember that other fic you're writing here, a fic you have great passion for because you've fallen in love with most of the characters? Remember how there are already 25 chapters to that fic, and you're not even halfway through Season 2 yet? Remember how much time it takes to rewatch the relevant episodes (yep, that's a real sacrifice you're making there!) and write each chapter?
> 
> So, CallieB, what one thing do you absolutely not have any time for? What one thing should you hold off on until some of the other things are done?
> 
> Yeah, that's right. Writing another multi-chap just because you had this idea pop into your head one night and it just wouldn't leave you alone until you wrote something down, that's what. That's exactly what you seriously don't have time for.
> 
> CallieB, ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?????

“What the _fuck_?”

Terry’s voice, booming through the small untidy living room, was like a bomb exploding in the relative peace of the Milkovich house. Ian leapt away from Mickey’s ass as though it had suddenly been doused in acid; Mickey scrambled to tug his boxers on, tripping up on the sofa.

“Dad-dad, hold up, hold on!” The words fell on deaf ears. Terry Milkovich slammed the front door shut behind him with an air of finality, his face contorted in rage and disgust. His large fist crashed heavily into Ian’s face, knocking him backwards onto the sofa behind him.

Ian cried out as Terry continued to punch him, blood gushing from his nose as it broke with a crunch. Mickey sprang onto his father’s back, attempting to pull him away from Ian; for a moment it seemed that he might succeed as Terry fell backwards, but he simply turned his attention on his son, smashing his fist down again and again until Mickey slumped into stillness.

Ian, taking advantage of the deflection onto Mickey, sprinted from the sofa towards the front door; he had some idea of calling Lip, calling Mandy, calling Kev – calling _someone_ to get rid of the monster. But it was to no avail; Terry saw him running, and pulled a gun out of his pocket.

“Sit your ass down,” he snarled. “Fucking ass digger!”

Ian, blood still trickling a long red trail down his smooth pale chest, backed away from the door, his eyes on the gun. Hatred for Terry surged through him as he seated himself, just in time to witness the man giving his son one last almighty punch to the face. Mickey’s head rolled, and he was still.

Terry pulled a cell phone out of the pocket of his jeans, panting slightly from the effort of beating the pair of them. He dialled a number; someone picked up, and he said: “It’s Terry.” His eyes cast around between the two bloodied faces in front of him. “Send over the Russian.”

He snapped the cell shut, shoving it deep in his pocket again, and walked over to the sofa where Mickey lay slumped lifelessly, bending down to put his face close to his son’s.

“She’s going to fuck the faggot out of you, kid,” he spat venomously. He turned a vicious eye on Ian. “And you’re goddamn going to watch!”

Ian could barely concentrate on Terry’s words; he was too focused on Mickey’s battered face, at the dull anguished look in Mickey’s eyes. Maybe Terry realised that he wasn’t paying attention, because he came closer, sweat dripping from his large angry face.

And that was when Mickey hit him.

He’d found a tire iron tucked down the side of the couch, and he brought it up swinging, smashing it into the back of Terry’s head. Terry dropped like a stone, crashing to the floor as though he’d been dropped from a height.

“Come on,” Mickey muttered; Ian, who needed no encouragement, snatched up his clothes and followed the older boy out of the house.

They didn’t stop to catch their breath and pull on some pants until they were a couple of blocks away; then Ian put his hands on either side of Mickey’s face, inspecting the damage.

“Fuck off,” Mickey said with a shrug, but there was no real heat in his voice, and in fact he almost seemed to lean in to Ian’s gentle touch.

“Don’t think it’s broken,” Ian said, the tips of his fingers grazing Mickey’s nose. “You okay?”

Mickey let out a bitter laugh. “The fuck do you think? That fucking sucked.”

“Hey, come on,” Ian replied. His hand was still on Mickey’s face. “No relationship in history goes well all the time.”

Mickey frowned at him. “We’re in a relationship now?”

Ian grinned. “The fuck do you think?”

Mickey rolled his eyes, and didn’t reply. The pair of them began walking towards the Gallagher house, more slowly now; they didn’t hold hands, because it was still the Southside, but their arms hung close together, and occasionally their fingers brushed each other.

After a while Mickey said: “What do we do when he wakes up?”

Ian, suppressing the surge of joy that came when Mickey used the word ‘we’, considered the question. At last he said: “We could run. My real dad lives in Lake View. I reckon he’d let us stay for a while.”

“You think?” Mickey asked. “Thought his wife hated you.”

Ian shrugged. “She hates everyone. Terry wouldn’t be able to get within five hundred yards of their place without someone calling the police.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mickey said. “We going now?”

“Tonight,” Ian replied. “I should get some stuff from home.”

They were almost at the Gallagher house by now; as Ian, still grinning stupidly at Mickey, pushed open the gate, there was a shout behind them.

“Mickey!”

Panicked, Mickey whirled around; his shoulders relaxed when he saw it was just Mandy, sprinting helter-skelter across the road.

“You okay?” Ian called.

Mandy ignored him. “What the fuck is going on, Mick? Dad’s passed out at home and there’s blood everywhere. What the fuck happened to your face?”

Mickey’s eyes flicked instantly to Ian, and his teeth crunched into his lower lip as he shifted slightly away from her. She noticed the motion, and looked at Ian as well.

“Ian?” she said. When neither of them responded, she tossed her head furiously. “Come on, guys! What the fuck is happening here?”

Ian sighed. “Look, come in and we’ll explain,” he said. Mandy tensed.

“I’m not going in there,” she spat with sudden venom. “Your brother’s in there.”

Mickey, who had been frozen in indecision, suddenly shook himself out, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be a pussy,” he said roughly. “If I can handle Dad beating the shit out of us, you can deal with Lip fucking Gallagher for twenty minutes.”

Mandy and Ian’s eyes widened simultaneously; Mickey snorted, pushing past the pair of them and clattering up the steps and into the house.

“Come on,” Ian said to Mandy, and they followed him inside.

Predictably, Lip was in the kitchen, a bunch of textbooks open in front of him on the table. He was ignoring all of them, however, being far too concerned with sending texts. Ian bit his lip as he glanced over at Mandy; she was resolutely ignoring him, concentrating fully on Mickey as he strode through into the kitchen.

“Mick, what the fuck happened?” she asked.

He ignored her in favour of tugging off his shirt, revealing the swelling pattern of bruises and blood that Terry’s ministrations had left behind. Even Ian, who had seen it happen, winced at the sight; Mickey ignored this as well, turning to the sink and twisting the cold tap with shaking hands.

Even Lip looked up from his cell. “Jesus, what happened to you?” he asked. Nobody answered him.

Mickey was wetting a towel under the steady stream of cold water; his fingers were trembling so badly that he was having trouble with even this simple task. Ian was at his side in an instant, taking the towel from his hands.

“Here,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

He brought the damp towel up to Mickey’s face, dabbing away the crusting blood and rinsing it away, watching it swirl crimson down the drain. Mickey leaned heavily against the counter, closing his eyes as Ian cleaned his wounds.

They didn’t need to tell Mandy anything. She could see the truth in front of her eyes.

Lip slid out from behind the kitchen table. “Who did this to you guys?” he asked, his voice hard.

“Terry,” Ian replied distractedly, smoothing the towel through the thick scab of dried blood underneath Mickey’s nose.

“Why?” Mandy asked in the voice of a person who already knows the answer to her question.

This time, however, it was Mickey who answered. “Caught us together.”

And despite what he was doing, Ian smiled; he had never heard Mickey refer to them as being ‘together’ before. He said nothing, however, wringing out the towel under the tap and exchanging it for a dry one to gently pat the dampness from Mickey’s skin.

“There,” he said when he had finished. Mickey smiled in relief, a real smile, all teeth, and pulled his shirt back on.

“Now you, come on,” he said. Ian peeled off his shirt, revealing the long line of blood running from his chin to his navel.

“Fuck!” Lip cursed.

“Looks worse than it is,” Ian said thickly as Mickey wiped the towel under his nose. “It’s just my nose.”

Lip did not seem reassured; angrily, he shoved at Mickey’s shoulder, so hard that he dropped the towel, letting it fall from his fingers to land with a wet splat on the floor.

“You got him into this shit!” Lip exclaimed. “Seriously, Ian, what are you _doing_ with this fucker? You could do so much better.”

“Fuck off, Lip,” Ian said, splashing water on his chest with his bare hands now that the towel was gone. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lip seemed to find this offensive; with a muttered expletive, he turned away from the kitchen, storming out the back door with a cigarette already hanging from his fingertips.

Mickey was standing rooted to the spot, his face dejected.

Ian leaned in to kiss him; the older boy turned his face away reflexively, and Ian sighed.

“Don’t listen to him, Mick,” he said, shrugging his shirt back on.

“Yeah,” Mandy spoke up. She had been observing the scene in silence until now. “It’s probably more about me, anyway.” Her voice was bitter. “Fucker can’t stand to be around me for more than ten seconds.”

“I don’t get what he sees in Karen,” Ian said. Mandy sank into a kitchen chair.

“Me neither,” she confessed. “I fucking love him, and he acts like he hates me.”

“She’s a bitch to him,” Ian offered.

“I’m nothing but good to him,” Mandy went on. “She doesn’t deserve him.”

Ian shrugged. “The worse she treats him, the more he’s obsessed with her.”

Mandy seemed to shake herself out of her dull mood. “What will you guys do? Dad won’t be passed out forever.”

Ian hesitated, looking at Mickey; the older boy shrugged, and Ian turned back to Mandy. “We’re running away,” he told her. “Going to Clayton’s place in Lake View.”

“Shit, seriously?” she said. “I’ll miss you.”

Ian enveloped her in a warm embrace. “I’ll call,” he said.

She laughed. “On what? My cell has no credit.”

Mickey hugged her as well. “Don’t tell anyone,” he warned. She cuffed the back of his head in response.

“Of course I won’t, shithead,” she said.

It didn’t take Ian long to shove together some clothes and money; within half an hour, he and Mickey were leaving the Gallagher house into the gathering dusk outside.

“Bye, Mands,” Ian said. Mickey waved swiftly, and then the two of them were gone, walking away. Mandy watched them go from the threshold of the Gallagher home, ignoring the nasty prickling in the corners of her eyes and forcing herself to smile through the dark.

As she closed the front door, retreating into the belly of the house – she was in no rush to go home and face her father, who was likely to be in a foul temper – she suddenly felt an angry grip on her upper arm.

“Ow! Lip, what the fuck?”

Lip’s face was close to hers, and his breath smelled of whisky and cigarettes. He had been down at The Alibi Room, getting shitfaced with Karen, no doubt. He released her as she shook her arm out of his grasp, but didn’t back off.

“Where are they?” he growled.

“I’m not telling you,” she said angrily. “The fuck is your problem, Lip?”

“My problem?” Lip exploded. “Mickey is fucking bad for Ian! Don’t you get that?”

Her small white hands, the nails painted deep purple, snaked out to plant themselves firmly on his broad chest, shoving him with all her might. “Asshole.”

He sighed. “I just want to look out for my brother.”

She ignored this, sitting on the sofa with her arms folded and legs crossed, tucked in the smallest space she could manage. He sat heavily at the other end of the couch, opening his hands expressively.

“Come on, Mands,” he cajoled. “Just tell me where they’re going. Christ, don’t you trust me?”

“That’s not fair, your prick,” she spat. “They asked me not to tell anyone.”

“They wouldn’t have meant me,” Lip said gently. “Come on, Ian’s my best friend. I wouldn’t do anything to get him hurt. You know that.”

She huffed, turning her face away.

“Jesus, Mandy, I thought you cared about me,” Lip said.

Her head whipped around to face him. “I do care about you, asswipe!”

“I’m worried about Ian,” Lip said in a hard voice. “Terry is after him, and no offence, but Mickey isn’t smart enough to keep them out of trouble. If you actually gave a shit, you’d tell me where they are so I can help them!”

“You want to help them?” she asked hesitantly.

“Of course I do!” Lip exclaimed frustratedly. “Whose side do you think I’m on?”

Mandy frowned. “If I tell you… I’m fucking trusting you, Lip. Don’t let me down.”

He put a reassuring hand on her arm. “Mandy, I care about you, too. I wouldn’t.”

She puffed out a breath. “Okay,” she said, leaning into his touch. “Just…” Her arms were winding around his neck, and now his large brown hand was on her waist, sliding up her back. His lips fluttered against hers, but he wouldn’t press into her for the kiss she wanted. He was holding back.

She sighed. “They’re going to Lake View,” she breathed, her tongue dabbing his lower lip as she spoke. “They’re running away to stay with Clayton.”

She closed her eyes, her hands cupping his face as she finally crushed her mouth against his, her tongue slipping between his lips, kissing him in the way she had missed so much since Karen had come back and fucked things up between them.

For a brief shining second, it was perfect, as though Karen didn’t even exist; then, suddenly, it was ripped away from her as he pulled sharply away, pushing her roughly against the back of the couch as he stood up.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was panicked and fearful.

“Going to find them; what do you think?” Gone was the gentility and softness of voice he had demonstrated before; now he was all business, barely looking at her as he snatched up the jacket he had discarded.

“No!” she cried. “You said you wouldn’t!”

He looked down at her pityingly. “Go home, Mandy.”

Tears were streaming unchecked down her face, smudging the carefully applied eyeliner and mascara. “You _asshole_ ,” she wept as he strode out of the house, the front door banging behind him in lieu of a goodbye.

For a few minutes Mandy sobbed on the couch, feeling the pain of Lip’s betrayal ripping through her chest. If Ian and Mickey knew what she had done… She sat up suddenly, wiping her cheeks with her hands.

She had to find them. She had to stop Lip. She had betrayed Ian and Mickey’s trust… it was her responsibility to fix it.

After a quick detour to the bathroom with her trusty eyeliner to repair the damage done to her make-up, she grabbed a jacket from the pegs by the front door. Judging by the size, it belonged to Fiona; it was denim, with a small hole in one of the elbows.

With a sense of purpose, she pulled it on, removing herself from the Gallagher house and walking out into the night that had fallen around her.


	2. Ill Met By Moonlight, Proud Titania

“Is that your brother?” Jasmine said, looking up from her game of pool. Fiona, leaning against the bar with a rum and coke clutched in her hand, looked over to the door. Sure enough, there was Carl, wearing a grey vest that displayed his skinny arms.

“Carl?” Fiona said. She pushed away from the bar, putting her drink down. Usually she might be concerned about her little brother being in a crowded bar, but today the Alibi was nearly empty. Only Jess stood behind the bar, wiping glasses with the air of someone who has nothing better to do.

“Hey, Fi,” Carl said, hands shoved in his pockets. “Where’ve you been?”

Fiona shrugged. “All over,” she said. “Hanging out with Vee. What about you?”

“Saw Kev,” Carl said. “He’s on his way here. Better make sure Vee doesn’t come, because he’s pissed with her.”

“Shit, didn’t she say she was going to stop by and meet us here?” Jasmine said, a concerned expression on her face that Carl didn’t believe for a second. “Why are they fighting, anyway?”

“Something about a kid,” Carl said. “Who cares?”

“I care,” came a raspy voice from the corner. Fiona rolled her eyes; it was Frank, hunched over a near-empty glass of beer. “Hell, we’re Americans, aren’t we? Then what’s the point?”

There was a silence as all four of his listeners stared at him in confusion.

This did not deter him in the least. “So you knock back a few,” he said incoherently. “Then you have a few more. And while you’re knocking them back, you know everybody’s laughing, but that’s okay. ‘Cause that’s what you need!” Frank stood up unsteadily, making his way over to the bar and banging down his glass. “Another!”

“You’ve had enough, Frank,” Jess said drily, but she filled up his glass anyway.

“That’s what you need,” he repeated, as if to make sure they understood. “You need people laughing, you need people drinking. And what’s here now, huh? Who’s here?”

“It’s the middle of the day,” Jasmine pointed out.

“Nah, he’s right,” Fiona admitted reluctantly. “That doesn’t stop most people.”

“When there’s trouble at home,” Frank slurred. “He’s really cooked the golden goose this time, huh?”

“No one wants to come here when all Kev and Vee do is fight,” Jess clarified for Jasmine, who was looking bewildered. “They haven’t stopped in weeks.”

“But why?” Jasmine asked.

“Because Kevin’s a fucking asshole who can’t let anything go!”

Vee swept into the bar, stiletto boots clicking on the floor as she pulled off her jacket; she held a baby seat in one hand with the twins buckled into it. Fiona gave her a one-armed hug, and even Jasmine bobbed forwards to kiss her cheek.

“Never met anyone as fucking _whipped_ as your husband,” Frank remarked inconsequentially. Vee glared at him.

“Who’s whipped?”

Vee swerved around so fast that her hair lashed into Jasmine’s face. “Kev,” she said in a sharp voice.

Kev stood in the doorway to his bar, hands on his large hips. “Veronica,” he said bitingly. “The fuck are you doing here?”

Vee put the baby seat on a nearby table. “Meeting my friends,” she said. “That a fucking problem?”

“Yeah, it is!” Kev said heatedly. Vee raised an eyebrow, grabbing her jacket from the chair she had dumped it on.

“Fine,” she said. “Fi, Jasmine, let’s go.”

Fiona tipped the last of her drink into her mouth, shrugging apologetically at Kevin as she and Jasmine walked past him; as Vee marched past with the twins in her hand, however, Kev reached out an arm to stop her.

“Vee, come on!” he said. “I’m still your fucking husband.”

She hesitated, putting the twins back on another table. “Kev,” she said. “I’m your wife. We don’t have to fight like this, okay?” She put her hands on his chest, her arms sliding up around his neck. “Come home with me,” she soothed. “We can sort this out. Come on, baby.”

He towered over her, looking down into her seductive face. Frank gave out a lubricious cackle, and Fiona raised her eyebrows; Jasmine snorted, turning towards the door. Kev placed his hands on Vee’s waist. “It’s up to you, baby,” he said, pulling her in towards him. “I just want my son, Vee. That’s all.”

Vee sighed. “Kev, come on,” she said. “My mom is not going to let go of that baby.”

He shoved her away from him. “She has to,” he said roughly. “After everything I’ve been through with him, he’s mine.” He turned furious eyes on his wife. “She would if you asked her!”

“Kev, you have two, _our_ two beautiful baby girls!” she exclaimed. “You have us! Come home, Kev, please.”

He pushed past her, heading behind the bar. “I’ll come home when my son is there waiting for me,” he said obstinately.

“Fiona,” Vee said thickly. “Let’s go.” She took the twins one final time, and the three women swept out of the bar.

“Fuck,” Kev whispered under his breath.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Frank observed helpfully. “I wouldn’t be upsetting that one, what hot-blooded male would? That’s the question, Kev, when you’ve got an ass like that at home!”

“Shut the fuck up, Frank,” Kev said angrily. “Go home.” Frank shrugged, a stupid kind of grin on his face, and wheeled around, out of the bar.

“Can I get a beer?”

Kev turned, staring in some surprise down at Carl. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Carl shrugged. “Nothing,” he said. “Debs is going crazy at home.”

“Women,” Kev muttered bitterly. “Don’t ever get married, Carl.”

“I’ve got a girlfriend,” Carl said self-consciously.

“Oh yeah?” Kev said in some surprise. “How’s that working out?”

He shrugged again. “Her family’s a nightmare.”

“Who’s isn’t?” Kev said morosely. “Let me ask you something, Carl, if you asked your girlfriend for something, you think she’d give it to you?”

Carl considered this. “She robbed a store with me and let me keep the cash,” he offered.

“That is a woman who loves you,” Kev said firmly. “Vee won’t let me have my son. My _son_. It’s fucking ridiculous that I even have to ask.”

“So what’ll you do?” Carl asked.

“Aha!” Kev exclaimed unexpectedly. “That is a very good question. I have got a plan.”

Carl hopped up onto a bar stool. “What is it?”

“You know Jem? Course you know Jem, you’re Frank Gallagher’s son. Sells drugs under the El?”

“Sure,” Carl said, shrugging his bony shoulders. “So?”

“So he’s got something new in,” Kev explained. “Special offer. It’s some kind of medical shit, a bunch of scientists invented it, whatever. It fucks you up, big-time.”

Carl frowned. “Like how?”

“Apparently you take it and it’s like you go crazy,” Kev said excitedly. “Makes you fall for the next person you see. Like, motherfucking obsessive falling in love with them. Doesn’t matter who it is. You’ll do anything for them.”

“Like, forever?” Carl asked.

“Wears off after a few hours,” Kev said. “Depends how strong it is.” He grinned. “I give that to Vee, she’ll fall in love with me. She’ll give me my son.”

“Oh, please,” Jess interjected. “Veronica’s already in love with you, you asshole.”

Kev turned to her. “If she really loved me, she’d let me have my son,” he said in a hard voice. “This is family. It’s fucking important.”

“What a shame you’ve got to work, then,” she said acidly. “Jem’ll be sold out by tonight, you know the fucker.”

“Fuck,” Kev said. “Jess, couldn’t you just—”

“No fucking way,” she said firmly. “I’m not covering for you so you can fuck with your wife that way. You asshole.”

“Ah, come _on_ , Jess!” Kev pleaded. “This is my son we’re talking about! I wouldn’t be doing it if it wasn’t fucking important.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head with finality. “No fucking way.”

“I’ll get it for you.”

Kev turned at the sound of Carl’s voice; he was leaning forward on the bar, chin resting on his hands. “Really?” Kev asked.

“Fucking hell, Kev, no!” Jess exclaimed. “He’s just a kid!”

Carl turned a disparaging glare on her. “I’m not a kid,” he said. He looked back at Kev. “I can get the drugs for you.”

“You can’t tell Fiona,” Kev warned. “She’ll rip my fucking balls off,” he added in an undertone.

“Don’t tell her anything anyway,” Carl said mulishly. “How much is it?”

Kev shoved a hand in his pocket, pulling out a roll of notes. “Take this,” he said. “Should be enough. Use the rest to buy yourself a drink, or something.”

Carl grinned widely, snatching the money out of Kev’s hands.

“He’s a kid!” Jess said loudly.

“Right,” Kev said guiltily. “Get a Subway.”

“Whatever,” Carl said. “See ya.”

He dashed out of the bar, leaving Kev and Jess behind, the latter shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re an asshole, Kevin,” she said a third time. “Veronica doesn’t deserve this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having taken Frank's little rant directly from Season 1, I have come to realise how little fucking sense Frank makes in his life! Comments make me feel good, please feed my insecurity :D


	3. I Know A Bank Where The Wild Thyme Blows

“Fucking Carl,” Kev grumbled for the seventh time. “I really think the brat’s just run off with my money!”

“Karma’s a bitch,” Jess said unsympathetically. “You realise it’s after ten, right? Your shift is up. You could go home, make things right with your wife?”

“No,” Kev said obstinately, already halfway out of the bar. “Fucking Carl!”

He slammed the door as hard as he could behind him, ignoring the disgusted look Jess shot him, and marched away with his hands balled up into fists.

“Fucking Gallaghers,” he muttered morosely. “Fucking Carl.”

He was so engrossed in his diatribe that he wasn’t looking where he was going; in truth, he didn’t really have anywhere to go anyway. He’d been crashing in the whorehouse above the bar since he and Vee had been fighting, but he was sick of the Alibi. It was the middle of the summer and the evening sky was light above his head; he was wandering underneath the El, towards the abandoned station house the kids all liked to camp out in. He couldn’t think of anywhere better he had to be.

As he walked, occasionally kicking a stone in pure frustration, he became aware of the distant sound of raised voices; instinctively he ducked behind one of the crumbling stone pillars, peering around it just in time to see Mandy Milkovich land a punch on Lip Gallagher’s upper arm.

“Fuck, Mandy, leave me alone!” Lip exclaimed in irritation. Kev’s eyes widened; he clearly hadn’t been keeping up properly with the Gallaghers. Last he’d heard, Lip and Mandy were the real deal.

“You know I can’t, you lying prick!” Mandy spat. Her face was even paler than usual in her anger, but her voice shook slightly and Kev could see the faintest trace of tears in her eyes.

Lip wheeled around to face her. “Don’t call me a liar,” he said, and Kev could hear the tremors of fury in his tone. “I’ve never been anything but fucking honest with you. I told you we were just a fuck; I told you I didn’t love you. You’re the one who turned it into a fucking relationship.”

Now the tears really threatened to spill over. “Fuck you,” Mandy said. “You’re lying right now. It meant more to you than that.”

“You’re a jealous, demented cunt, Mandy, seriously,” Lip told her. “We’re done.”

“You know what, don’t sweat it,” Mandy said with a horribly sarcastic laugh. “We were done before now. It’s Mickey and Ian I care about now.”

“Whatever,” Lip said, already walking away; and poor Mandy, her cheeks definitely wet, could only follow behind him.

Kev, behind the pillar, snorted indignantly on her behalf; he was on the point of going out to give Lip some well-deserved advice on how to treat a woman when a tap on his back made him jump. He spun around to see Carl behind him.

“Shit! Carl! Don’t do that!” he exclaimed. Carl held up his hands.

“Sorry,” he said in a decidedly unrepentant tone. “Where’ve you been?”

“Where have I… Where the fuck have _you_ been, man?” Kev said huffily. “You just ran off with my cash!”

Carl stared at him like he was crazy. “I’ve been getting your drug,” he said, pulling a small zip lock bag out of his pocket. Three white pills sat inside it.

Instantly pacified, Kev took the bag, though he couldn’t resist grumbling: “Took you long enough.”

Carl gave him what Kev had come to know as the Gallagher look. “It wasn’t like I was picking up milk at the store,” he said bitingly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kev said, already over it. “Hey, you know your brother was just here?”

Carl shrugged. “So?”

“So maybe Vee’s not the only one around here who needs to figure out how to treat the one they love,” Kev replied. “He was being a dick.”

Carl looked back at him impassively. “So?”

Kev looked at the little bag in his hand. “I don’t need three,” he said. “One’s enough. Your brother just went towards the station house. It’s getting late. You could slip him one when he’s asleep. Maybe he’d learn to treat that poor Milkovich kid a little better.”

He wondered for a moment if he’d gone too far; this was Carl’s family he was talking about, after all. But really Lip deserved it; he’d said some truly hurtful things to Mandy, and that was only the snippet Kev had overheard. People – and here Vee’s smooth know-it-all face popped once more into his mind – needed to figure out how to behave towards their partners.

Carl appeared to be considering what Kev had said; after a moment or two, he shrugged. “Okay,” he said. An unexpectedly evil grin spread across his face. “This is gonna be fun.”

Ignoring this slightly disturbing turn of events, Kev shook one of the pills out of the bag and passed it to Carl, who stuffed it in his pocket. His mind on Vee once more, Kev waved to the youngster and marched purposefully off towards his home, already thinking about what his life would be like once Vee gave him his son.

Carl stayed standing under the El for a few minutes, his hand still shoved in his pocket with his fingertips grazing the little pill. He wondered idly why Kev was taking such an interest in his brother’s love life; after a while, he decided not to think about it. Thinking about things too deeply was not Carl’s speciality; hijinks of this sort, on the other hands, definitely were.

He wheeled around, sauntering underneath the tracks towards the station house.

*

Inside the station house, Ian was balls-deep inside Mickey’s ass.

They’d initially stopped because Ian’s nose had started bleeding again, and they’d wanted to keep out of sight; having Mickey so close to him as he tenderly dabbed at the injured appendage, however, had been too much for Ian to resist. Being able to lean forward and kiss Mickey, to wrench his shirt off, to curl his fingers in his hair, without fear of retribution, was so new and so wonderful that Ian wondered if there would ever be a time he wouldn’t lust after it.

It didn’t bother him in the slightest that he didn’t really have an answer to that question.

Because it really was glorious, wasn’t it? Feeling the hard thickness of Mickey’s muscular arms as they wrapped around him, pressing their chests together so completely that it was like they were one person, feeling Mickey’s legs tighten around his waist as he thrusted and came in one heady rush. Mickey had agreed to run away with him. It was tantamount to a confession of love.

Afterwards, Ian clutched Mickey as though he were a life raft, stroking his hair as the older boy rested his head on Ian’s chest. They shuddered simultaneously in the beautiful afterglow of being together, and Ian felt Mickey’s mouth curve into a smile as it pressed into him.

“Fucking tired, man,” Mickey murmured. “Not sure I’ll make it there tonight.”

Ian smiled. “So sleep,” he said easily. “We can go in the morning.”

Mickey stiffened in his arms. “Fuck cuddling all night,” he said derisively, pulling away; Ian, unprepared for this change in mood, stared at the other boy.

“What’re you talking about?” he asked.

Mickey was grabbing his clothes now, pulling on his shirt with a decided lack of finesse. “This is your fucking faggoty cuddling shit,” he told Ian firmly. “Not interested.”

Ian sat up, angry. “You know, we’re alone here,” he said crossly. “You don’t have to be like this.”

“Chill the fuck out, Gallagher,” Mickey said coldly. “Get some sleep.”

Ian yanked his jeans on, scooting over to the corner by the door. “Fine,” he spat. “I’ll sleep over here, and you fuck off to the other side of the room. Fucking dick.”

Mickey glared at him. “Jesus Christ, when did you get so dramatic?”

Ian lay down, turning his face pointedly away from Mickey. “When I realised what a pussy you are,” he muttered.

He heard a sigh from the other side of the room, but Mickey didn’t reply. Ian didn’t know what he could have said anyway. He felt gutted. He’d thought running away together had meant something.

Maybe it hadn’t. But right now Ian was too fucking shattered to figure it out, so he took Mickey’s advice and went to sleep.

He was so deeply asleep, in fact, that he didn’t hear the quiet creak of the floorboards when Carl slipped into the room. He didn’t hear – although they were so loud as to be deafening to a more perceptive person – the cogs turning in his little brother’s head as he saw Ian lying on the floor. He didn’t know that Carl was looking down at his brother and putting two and two together to make five.

He didn’t feel the little pill sliding into his open mouth and down his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You wanna know something really weird? This chapter, completely coincidentally, has the EXACT SAME wordcount as the last one.
> 
> Yeah, okay no one cares. On another completely irrelevant note, Sara Bareilles is awesome. Listen to her music when you read this :D


	4. What Angel Wakes Me From My Flowery Bed?

Mandy decided that she had to stop crying. It had been at least half an hour since Lip had ditched her, running off towards the station, and here she was still sniffling like a fucking pussy. She couldn’t help how she felt about Lip, though; she knew he still cared about her. Somehow, being a dick to her was some kind of defence mechanism for him.

She wondered where Ian and Mickey were. She and Lip had traipsed along under the El for ages once they’d realised that there weren’t any trains going this late; they had to be crashing somewhere by now. She needed to warn them about Lip.

Her eyes alighted on the abandoned station house. She and her friends had camped out there a few times growing up, making fires from empty crisp packets and drinking beer out of cheap cans. Mickey had come along to a fair few of those trips; he might have taken Ian there. Maybe they were sleeping inside.

The front door creaked slightly as Mandy pushed on it; she coughed as a swirl of dust raised by her movements blew into her eyes. She squinted; it almost looked as though there was a figure lying beneath the window, but she couldn’t see properly. She took another tentative step into the room.

There was something, or perhaps someone, in her way; stumbling backwards, Mandy tripped and fell back out of the house and down the steps back to the pavement, coughing loudly. She sure as hell hoped it had been Ian or Mickey, rather than some drunk hobo, or even worse, Frank Gallagher; she could hear whoever it had been shuffling around inside, and then the front door opened again.

Her thumping heart settled; it was Ian. He smiled a wide, beaming smile at her.

“Mandy!” he said, like she was his favourite person in the whole world.

“Hey,” she said, smiling back at him. Then she remembered. “Ian, Lip’s looking for you—”

He waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t talk about Lip,” he said. “Lip’s an asshole.”

“You’re telling me,” Mandy said with feeling. “But seriously, Ian, he’s looking for you guys. He’s trying to stop you leaving.”

Ian was looking at her in a way that was starting to make her feel uncomfortable. It didn’t seem like he’d heard a word she’d said. After a beat, he said: “You know, you’re really beautiful, Mandy.”

She stared at him. “What?”

He grinned at her. “You,” he said with careful emphasis, “are seriously beautiful.”

“Um,” she replied stupidly. “Okay. Ian, did you hear what I said before?”

“Of course I did,” he said in a low voice. “I listen to everything you say, Mandy.”

She frowned. Why was he being like this? “Are you high?”

He bounded forwards, grasping her hand. She stared down at it. “Nope,” he said. “I just… I think I love you, Mandy.”

Mandy rolled her eyes. She’d have to have a word with Mickey about what pills he let Ian take. “Okay, sure,” she said. “Where’s Mickey?”

“Who gives a shit?” Ian said. Mandy frowned, deeper this time. This was not like Ian. He went on: “You’re the one I care about, Mands.”

And then, so suddenly that Mandy didn’t quite know how it had happened, his mouth was on hers and he was kissing her.

Back in the days when she’d been pretending to be Ian’s girlfriend, they’d kissed a couple of times, usually when she wanted to show off in front of her friends. He’d gone along with it for her sake, and sometimes she’d closed her eyes and pretended it was real, that the polite cool touch of his lips was infused with a passion she knew he didn’t – _couldn’t_ – feel for her. That was back in the days when she’d still secretly fancied him.

Those kisses couldn’t even come close to this one.

He was holding her face in his hands, sucking gently on her lower lip as his tongue moved in her mouth; she was too startled to resist, her eyes wide open as he kissed her as passionately as she’d ever wanted him to. As passionately as she had seen him kiss her brother.

She pulled away from him.

“Ian, what the fuck!”

He was looking at her with an expression that could almost be classed as _hurt_. “What?”

Confusion was making Mandy angry. “Mickey. You love _Mickey_. This is bullshit!”

Now Ian looked irritated. “Why do you keep banging on about Mickey? I love _you_ , Mandy.”

“Have you guys had a fight?” she demanded. “Is this your way of getting back at him?”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t give a shit about Mickey,” Ian said firmly.

“I don’t have to put up with this shit,” Mandy said, and was surprised to find herself almost tearful. “I’m not a tool—”

“I know!” Ian exclaimed fitfully.

“—so you don’t get to treat me like one.”

“Mandy—” Ian began, but she ignored him, turning and running away, away from Ian and whatever mess he was in, away from asshole Lip, just away.

*

Kev hovered over Vee’s still form as she lay in the bed that he had once shared with her. One hand was resting on her stomach, moving gently up and down as she slumbered, and for a moment he almost felt affectionate towards his wife.

Then he remembered his son, his beautiful bright-eyed son whom he was not allowed to claim, and his heart hardened.

He took the little pill out of the plastic bag Carl had given him, and slid it between her lips, watching it disappear. He grinned. Now she would give him anything; all he had to do was make sure that he was the first person she saw. He had it all planned out; he would take the twins next door to the Gallaghers, to make sure that Vee didn’t see one of them first. Fiona would watch them, especially if he told her that he was trying to work things out with Vee.

It wasn’t a complete lie.

Satisfied with a job well done, Kev looked at his watch. It wasn’t two yet; still time for a drink down at the Alibi. Smiling to himself, he silently let himself out of the house, letting the door close with a quiet click behind him.

And nearly crashing into Frank Gallagher as he came stumbling along the dimly-lit street.

“Jesus, Frank!” Kev complained. “Watch yourself!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Frank mumbled, but Kev was already striding past him. He didn’t have time for any more of Frank’s drunken ramblings tonight; he had a celebratory beer to drink.

Frank watched him ago, forehead creased into a frown. “No respect,” he said to no one. Then, when predictably no one responded, he stuck out a fist to crash into the fence. “No respect!” he shouted.

The window above his head banged open. “Who is making all that fucking noise?”

Frank looked up. It was Vee, her large breasts barely contained in her little blue negligee; she was looking up and down the street with a belligerent expression in her dark eyes.

Frank raised a hand. “Sorry, Vee,” he called up unrepentantly.

Vee looked at him. “Frank?”

“Here we go,” Frank chuckled to himself. Vee’s face disappeared from the window. “Neighbours of Satan.”

“Frank?” It was Vee again, this time at the front door. Her tone was considerably softer than before. In fact, she was smiling at him; it was a rather sultry smile.

“Veronica,” Frank said in greeting, waving his hand again.

She beamed at him again. “Would you like to come in?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the fun begins! I'm really enjoying writing this one, I do love Shakespeare :D


	5. O Helen, Goddess, Nymph, Perfect, Divine!

Kev was whistling. It was his custom to whistle when he was happy, and the abundant amount of alcohol he had consumed back at the Alibi was lending itself to the discordant version of _Steal My Girl_ currently disrupting the peace of the night air. He strolled along underneath the El, happily plotting his reunion with his wife, and consequently he didn’t see Lip until he was almost tripping up on the eldest Gallagher boy’s prone body.

“Shit!” Kev exclaimed expressively. He frowned down at Lip; the kid had somehow managed to sleep through Kev’s less-than-silent approach, his mouth slightly open and his eyes closed.

A sound disrupted his inspection of Lip’s slumbering form; he looked to his left to see the slender, hunched-over figure of Mandy approaching. She hadn’t seen him; her face was in her hands, and the sound he had heard was that of her tears.

“Fucking Carl,” Kev muttered. Carl had obviously run off with the pill Kev had given him without bothering to use it on Lip like he’d been instructed; maybe he was planning on selling it. Kev said again, crossly: “Fucking Carl!”

Mandy looked up at the sound of his voice. “Who’s there?” she called out aggressively.

Kev made a split-second decision. He fumbled in his pocket, snatching up the last remaining pill, and shoved it into Lip’s mouth; nudging the sleeping boy with his toe, he made a run for it.

Well, _someone_ had to sort out the Gallagher shit show.

*

Mandy was seriously pissed off that her tear ducts were still fucking leaking. She was going to be dehydrated to the point of death if this crying jazz didn’t stop soon. She kept trying to make herself stop, but she couldn’t help it; it felt like she’d hit some kind of emotional floodgate and just crashed right through it. She couldn’t believe Ian had kissed her like that, couldn’t believe he would mess around with her feelings – and Mickey’s! – that casually.

All the fucking Gallaghers were the same, she thought viciously.

A noise, like someone hiccoughing or maybe swearing, came from ahead; she looked up from the floor over to the source of the sound. “Who’s there?” she shouted.

Only a loud scuffling sound, like someone running incredibly unsteadily, met her in response.

“Mandy?”

The voice was Lip’s; Mandy jumped as she saw him slumped against the concrete wall of the El over to her left. He stood up as he saw her, rubbing his eyes.

“What do you want, asshole?” she spat. She was sick of Gallaghers.

He held his hands up as though in surrender. “I just want to look at you,” he said quietly. She stared at him.

“What?”

He smiled, almost shyly, and stepped towards her. “I said, I just want to look at you.” He paused. “You’re beautiful, Mandy.”

Had he heard what Ian had said to her? “You’re a dick,” she said angrily. “Stop making fun of me!”

He actually had the audacity to look hurt by this. “I’m not!” he exclaimed. “Mandy, come on. I love you, okay?”

Mandy opened her mouth to respond – and closed it again. What the hell was she supposed to say to that? The words she’d been wanting to hear from Lip forever were finally spoken, out there, in the world, and he was standing there looking so fucking cute and helpless and sincere with his rumpled sleepy hair and his clear eyes that didn’t waver even slightly as they gazed at her.

For a second, she almost believed him.

But he’d tricked her once before. Mandy’s face hardened. He’d manipulated her one too many times.

“Mandy,” he said softly. But before he could continue – and before she could call him on his bullshit – a sharp shout interrupted them.

“Mandy!”

Un-fucking-believable. It was Ian. His cheeks were red, and he was panting, out of breath. This made no sense, as Ian was fit enough to outrun The Flash on a good day; Mandy could only conclude that whatever fucking idiocy had caused him to kiss her earlier was affecting more than just his brain.

“What are you doing here, Ian?” Lip asked, his tone hostile.

Ian glared at his brother. “Leave Mandy alone, Lip. She deserves better than your shit.”

Lip snorted. “Get back to lover boy, Ian. Mandy and me are going home.” He smiled warmly at Mandy, who was still so stunned she couldn’t find the words to tell him to go fuck himself. She just gaped at him.

“Mandy’s not going anywhere with you,” Ian said in a stronger voice. “Come on, Mandy. Come with me.” He held out a hand.

Mandy found her voice. “What the fuck, Ian?” she said. “And you!” she added, gesturing furiously at Lip. “I’m not your fucking mind game punching bag!”

Both boys started talking at once. “Come on, Mandy! You know it’s you and me,” Lip said pleadingly, catching hold of her hand.

Ian grasped the other one, tugging her out of Lip’s grip. “I love you, Mandy,” he said passionately. “You must know that.”

Mandy wrenched her hands away from the boys. “Get off me!”

“The fuck?”

All three of them looked around to see Mickey standing behind them, a bewildered expression on his grimy face. His gaze was narrowed to stare at Ian, who was already reaching out for Mandy again.

“Where did you go, Gallagher?” he asked.

Ian shrugged. “You didn’t want me around,” he said. “I’m with Mandy now.”

Mickey rubbed his eyes, his tattoos standing out on his knuckles. “The fuck are you talking about?” He didn’t even sound surprised, just bored. Mandy turned furious eyes on him.

“Is this your idea of a fucking joke?” she demanded. “Let’s all fucking beat on Mandy today? I can’t fucking believe you!”

Mickey stepped forwards, his voice rising. “I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on, bitch, so don’t take your shit out on me!”

“What’s going on is I’m leaving you for Mandy,” Ian declared. Both Milkoviches turned incredulous eyes on him.

“Fuck that,” Lip said with force. “Mandy’s coming with me.”

“Hey, how about we let Mandy say what she wants for once?” Mandy said snidely.

“You know it’s me, come on,” Lip said. “We have history. You love me. You did my fucking laundry, for fuck’s sake!”

For a moment, Mandy just looked at him. It wasn’t as though what he was saying were untrue; she _had_ loved him. Part of the reason life was so fucking shitty right now was because getting over him was so fucking hard. If she’d been some Northside princess, she might have had fantasies about him standing in front of her and saying these things to here; as it was, however, she was hardened Southside stock, and reality hitting you right in the face was the name of the game she was used to. She narrowed her eyes.

“Fuck you,” she spat.

Ian took the opportunity to clasp her hands again. “Mandy, we’ve been best friends for years,” he said softly. “We’ve always loved each other. We’ve seen each other through bad times and good. You know you love me.”

And then, before either Mandy or Mickey could utter the disbelief that was clearly etched on both their faces, he leaned forwards and kissed her again.

“The _fuck_!” This could have come from Mandy, Lip or Mickey; all three wore identical expressions of rage and hurt. Mandy pushed her hands hard into Ian’s chest, so that he stumbled backwards; Mickey had sprung forwards to Ian’s side.

“The hell, Gallagher?” he exclaimed. “What happened to you and me heading Northside together, huh?”

Ian turned contemptuous eyes on him. “Like we would have got there,” he said. “You’re too much of a fucking pussy to sleep next to me when no one’s even around. I’ve got no interest in being a mistress any more.”

What little colour there was in Mickey’s face drained away in an instant. His mouth opened and closed silently, his eyes clearly damp as he looked at Ian’s cool, scornful face. Ian didn’t even acknowledge the effect he’d had, turning back to Mandy as though Mickey weren’t even there.

“Mandy, come on, let’s go,” he said.

“No fucking way!” Lip cried. Mandy ignored him, staring at Ian.

“That was fucking harsh,” she said quietly.

And with that, she turned and walked away.


	6. Come, Sit Thee Down Upon This Flowery Bed

Debbie still wasn’t sure that she was awake. A dream was the only explanation she could come up with for what she was seeing; either that, or she was actually going mad. She was sitting on an armchair in Vee’s living room, a leopard-print rug wrapped around her knees, watching the strangest scene she’d ever witnessed in her life. Opposite her, Fiona was leaning against the doorframe with a half-disgusted, half-incredulous expression on her face; Debs knew exactly how she felt.

Vee herself was on the sofa, dressed in an incredibly revealing negligee and a silk dressing gown. She was laughing, one hand winding flirtatiously through her dark hair. And sat beside her, a smug, drunken smile on his slightly grubby face, was Frank.

“Hey, Debs. Debs!” Debbie blinked; she’d been too distracted by the sight of Veronica running her hand through Frank’s greasy hair while giving her usual filthy cackle at one of his bad jokes to realise she was being addressed.

“What?”

“Get us a beer, eh, there’s a good girl?” He turned back to Vee. “You know, there’s an interesting history behind your name, Veronica. One of those redemption bullshit tales, but then who are we to judge?” He stopped, looking back at Debbie. “Debs? Beer?”

Vee was also looking at her now. “Get him a beer, Debbie,” she said sharply. Debs just stared. What was up with Veronica? The most interaction Debbie had ever seen her having with Frank was cutting him off at the bar. Now she was giving him alcohol.

Veronica gestured impatiently towards the kitchen, and slowly Debbie got up, going over to the fridge. As she walked away, she heard Fiona say: “Come on, Vee, I know you wanna get back at Kev, but this is going a bit far.”

“I wouldn’t mind a sandwich, Fiona, since you’re near the kitchen,” Frank said in his best butter-wouldn’t-melt voice. It always worked on Sheila, and apparently on Vee too, because she said:

“Fi? Would you mind?”

“Jesus Christ,” Fiona muttered. “I can’t watch this.”

Debbie, having retrieved the beer, handed it to Frank as quickly as possible before retreating back to her armchair. At that moment, the unmistakeable sound of a key turning in the lock came from the front door.

“Thank fuck,” Fiona said.

*

Kev wouldn’t have said he was drunk. Not really. His drink at The Alibi had turned into three, but he was still upright, and only swaying a little. As the sky outside began to lighten, he decided it was time to go and wake up his loving wife. Or at least, the wife who _would_ be appropriately loving, once the drug kicked in.

He stumbled up the steps to the front door, fumbling in his pocket for his keys, and opened the door. To his surprise, the light was on in the living room; had the twins woken Vee up? It would be disastrous if she saw one of them first, particularly given than he’d used up all the pills now. He hurried into the front room.

The sight in front of him was enough to make him heave, just about keeping down his stomachful of alcohol. His wife was seated on _his_ sofa, her breasts barely concealed by a thin nightdress, and her hands curled in Frank Gallagher’s hair.

“Vee? What the _fuck_?” he spluttered.

Slowly, almost regally, Vee turned her head towards him. “Oh, Kev,” she said coolly, her voice thoroughly disinterested. “Franky wants a sandwich, and Fiona won’t make it. You mind?”

“Franky?” Kev roared.

Vee turned back to Frank, her face melting into a smile. “Yeah,” she said fondly, sliding closer to Frank on the sofa. Frank grinned rather stupidly.

“Hey, Kev,” he said over Vee’s shoulder. “No hard feelings, there’s a man. Any man would say the same.”

Fiona hurried over to him. “Kev, I don’t know what the fuck’s going on,” she said in an undertone, her eyes flicking over to the couple on the couch. Vee was nuzzling Frank’s collarbone. “Debs and I heard Frank yelling outside, we came over to get him, and _this_ was happening. It’s like she’s drunk, but I swear she’s not drinking while she’s breastfeeding.”

“Fuck,” Kev breathed. He’d just realised what must have happened. Somehow, Vee saw Frank first; the drug was working its magic. Fuck. _Fuck_.

He backed away, fumbling with the door behind him. Fiona was staring at him; she was obviously expecting him to do something about the situation, but he couldn’t. He’d done this to Vee. What a fucking prick.

He reached the top of the steps, and turned and ran, pelting through the front yard and down the street. He had no idea where he was going; how could he fix this? He’d thought he was so clever, but suddenly it was all going tits up. His feet carried him down backstreets and alleyways, and it was only when he finally had to shudder to a halt, gasping for breath, that he realised where he was.

In front of him was the house of his mother-in-law, and the mother of his son.

Kev hadn’t visited Carol since he and Vee had started fighting. He hadn’t seen his son since the day he was born. He missed him so much it felt as though his chest would explode from it, but at the same time, his face was a little hazy in Kev’s brain. Babies grew so fast. Kev didn’t even know if he’d recognise his son if he did see him.

Tentatively, he walked up the short garden path, and before he had time to think better of it, hit the buzzer. It was still the early hours of the morning, but Carol would probably be up with the baby anyway. Maybe. Fuck, if not, she’d wake up.

It took a few minutes, but eventually a light came on at the upstairs window, and Carol’s face appeared, looking tired and pissed. When she saw him, her eyes widened, and she opened the window.

“Kev?” she said. She opened it a little wider. “What are you doing here?”

Kev opened his mouth… and then closed it again. He didn’t have a good answer to that. He shrugged expansively. “Came to see you.”

Carol made an irritated, tutting noise, rolling her eyes as she closed the window. Kev waited; Carol had always had a soft spot for him, even before they’d fucked. Sure enough, a moment later she was opening the front door. He smiled, and followed her inside.

“You and Veronica still fighting?” she asked disapprovingly. When he didn’t answer, she tutted again. “That’s my baby girl you’re walking out on.”

“I’m not walking out on her!” Kev exclaimed. They were in the kitchen by now, and he took a chair opposite Carol at the table. “I just want my son.”

Her expression softened. “He’s right here, Kev, you just come on over any time you like,” she said kindly, reaching over to pat his hand. She smiled like that was supposed to be some kind of fucking consolation.

“He’s my son!” Kev’s voice rose with every word. “He should be with me.”

“That’s no way to talk to your baby mama,” Carol said sharply. “You don’t even see him now, so what the fuck do you care, huh?”

Kev’s mouth fell open. “He’s my son!”

“Yeah? And who feeds him, huh? Who changes his diapers? Not you, that’s who,” she said bitingly. “You ain’t even around.”

“I would be, if—”

“If what?” Carol interrupted.

Kev opened his mouth to speak – and stopped. What _was_ keeping him from his son? Not Carol – she’d told him from the first that he was welcome any time. Not Vee – she understood his love for his son. Sure, so the boy didn’t live with him, but that was the same for any couple that weren’t together any more.

“I miss him,” he said finally.

Carol’s face turned sympathetic again. “So come visit, honey,” she said. “Now,” she added in a more business-like tone. “Off you go now, back to my baby girl, so I can get some sleep!”

Kev was barely aware of his surroundings as he stumbled home. Was it possible that he was really that much of a fucking _idiot_? Of course Carol didn’t want to give up her child – just like he didn’t. He was the moron keeping himself away from his son. Everything he’d done had been the biggest fucking mistake of his life.

The lights were still on when he finally arrived at the house. He squared up, ready to throw Frank out – the prick was surprisingly tenacious when he stood to gain something. His hand steadier this time, he turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open.

Vee stood in the middle of the living room, her hands on her hips. She was majestic and undeniably sexy in her little nightdress, her feet bare on the floor, her head thrown back. Frank was nowhere to be seen; Kev hoped that wasn’t because he was already upstairs in Vee’s bed. He knew it was his own fucking fault, but it would be very difficult to get past that. Standing behind Vee, near the kitchen, were Fiona, Debbie, and…

Oh, _fuck_.

Carl.

*

“You drugged me!”

“I’m so sorry, baby, it was a mistake,” Kev pleaded. He shot Carl a dirty glare. “I was coming here to tell you myself, I swear.”

“Me and Frank? _Frank_?” Vee demanded disgustedly. She looked ready to hurl.

“That wasn’t part of the plan, baby, I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he told her. He looked around. “Where is Frank, anyway?”

“I threw him out,” Veronica said crisply. “One minute, I’m sitting on the couch, kissing some sexy stranger—”

“You _kissed_ him?”

“—and the next I suddenly realise I’m making out with fucking Frank Gallagher,” she continued, ignoring his interruption. “Lemme tell you, Kev, that was like waking up in a fucking nightmare.”

“I know, baby, I know, I’m sorry,” Kev said shamefacedly. “I went to see your mum. I realised I’ve been a dick.”

“Yeah,” Vee agreed. She still had her hands on her hips, but Kev could see the faintest trace of a smile in the corners of her mouth.

He let his own lips twitch in answer. “I’ve been very bad,” he said languidly. “I’ve been so, so fucking bad.”

“Okay!” Fiona exclaimed brightly. He’d almost forgotten she was there. “Time for the Gallaghers to go home. And Carl,” she added, pointing sharply at him, “You and me are gonna have a conversation about dealing drugs behind my back.”

Carl only smirked as the three Gallagher siblings made their way past Kev and Vee and out the front door.

“You’ve been a bad boy,” Vee purred as the door closed behind them. She moved towards him, her hips swaying.

“Oh yeah?” Kev murmured as his wife came into his arms. “Well, baby, maybe you should punish me.”

She kissed him, a glorious movement of lips and tongue that almost made Kev cry; it had been so long since he’d had her like this. She kissed the corner of his mouth, his chin, his ear, biting on his earlobe. When she spoke, her voice was a breathy, seductive whisper, right by his ear.

“Oh, honey,” she crooned. “I intend to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh I know it's been like a year, but I swear, I'm going to finish this! I'm very determined. To those who have been so patient with me, thank you :)

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know. I shouldn't. I don't have time. I should be working on my other fic. But this idea just bounced around in my head until I did something with it, so please excuse me if everything takes longer now!


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